Kieran's POV
I know they're coming thirty seconds before they arrive.
The wards I placed around the greenhouse start screaming in my mind—not a gentle warning, but a full-blown alarm. Twenty signatures. Maybe more. All converging on our location at once.
"Elara," I say quietly, setting down the map we've been studying. "We need to leave. Right now."
She looks up from the rose she's been practicing with, her face still flushed from our almost-moment before Adrian appeared. Before everything changed. "What's wrong?"
"Harvesters. A lot of them." I'm already moving, grabbing weapons I've hidden throughout the greenhouse. "They found us faster than I expected. Victor must have given them tracking spells."
"But we just—" She stops, understanding dawning. "The parents. It was bait."
"Everything Victor does is bait." I strap a silver blade to my belt, check the throwing knives in my boot. "He wanted you emotional. Distracted. Easy to corner."
"It worked." Her voice is bitter. "I fell for it completely."
"So did I." I meet her eyes across the greenhouse. "Because there's a chance—a small one—that those people really are your parents. Victor's kept Garden-Speakers alive before. Used them as breeding stock, power sources, leverage. If there's even a possibility they're real..."
"Then I have to try." She stands, squaring her shoulders. "What do we do?"
"We run. Fight if we have to. But mostly run." I move to the back wall, pressing my hand to a hidden seal. A door appears in the solid stone. "This leads to the underground tunnels. Old subway system from before the city expanded. We can lose them down there."
Elara nods, gathering her plants. Even now, even knowing we have maybe twenty seconds before all hell breaks loose, she won't leave them behind.
That's my girl.
The greenhouse door explodes inward before we can move.
They don't bother with tactics this time. Fifteen Harvesters pour through the opening like a flood, weapons charged and ready. Their eyes glow with that sickly supernatural light.
And leading them is someone I never expected to see again.
"Commander Drace," I say coldly. "Still doing Victor's dirty work, I see."
The man standing at the front of the group has the weathered face of a soldier and eyes full of regret. Commander Drace Kellan—once an honorable warrior, now Victor's enforcer.
"Kieran." He nods once, respectful despite everything. "I don't want to do this. You know I don't."
"Then don't."
"You know it's not that simple." His hand tightens on his weapon. "Victor has my daughter. If I don't bring him the girl, he kills her."
Elara steps up beside me, her chin raised defiantly. "So you'll trade my life for hers? That's your idea of honor?"
"No." Drace's expression twists with pain. "But I'm a father before I'm a soldier. I'm sorry, kid. I really am."
He raises his hand to give the attack order.
I don't give him the chance.
I shift mid-leap, silver fur erupting across my body, claws extending. I take down three Harvesters before they can even blink. Behind me, I hear Elara scream—not in fear, but in fury—and the greenhouse explodes with green light.
Plants surge from every surface. The rosebush she was practicing with grows into a massive thorny monster. Vines shoot from cracks in the floor, wrapping around legs and weapons. Even the grass between the broken glass shards rises up like tiny soldiers.
"She's stronger than the reports said!" someone shouts.
"Sedate her! Now!"
A Harvester raises some kind of dart gun. I'm too far away to stop him. He fires.
Elara waves her hand and a wall of vines catches the dart mid-flight. "Not today!" she yells, and I've never been more proud of her.
We fight as a team. I tear through attackers while she controls the battlefield, making it impossible for them to coordinate. Plants trip them, blind them, hold them down so I can finish them off.
For a few wild minutes, I think we might actually win.
Then Drace joins the fight.
He's not like the other Harvesters. He's a trained warrior with centuries of experience. His blade moves in patterns I recognize—old Guardian techniques, stolen and corrupted.
We clash in the center of the greenhouse. Steel meets claw. His blade cuts deep into my shoulder and I roar, retaliating with a strike that sends him flying backward.
"I trained you better than this!" I snarl.
"You trained me to protect the innocent!" he shoots back, getting to his feet. "My daughter is innocent!"
"So is Elara!"
"She's a weapon! Don't you see that? Victor will never stop hunting her. Everyone she cares about will die because of what she is!"
The words hit harder than his blade because there's truth in them. Victor will never stop. Never give up. As long as Elara exists, she's a target.
But that doesn't mean I'll let her fall.
I gather my power for a devastating attack—one that will take down Drace and half his team. But as I'm about to unleash it, I hear Elara scream.
Not a battle cry. A scream of pure terror.
I spin just in time to see a Harvester grab her from behind. He's got some kind of collar in his hands—spelled metal that glows with suppression runes.
"No!" I launch myself toward them, but Drace intercepts me. We go down in a tangle of limbs and fury.
The Harvester snaps the collar around Elara's neck.
The effect is immediate. Her green glow vanishes. The plants she was controlling fall dormant. She gasps like she's drowning, clawing at the metal.
"Elara!" I throw Drace off me with desperate strength, but three more Harvesters pile on, holding me down.
"Got her!" the one with the collar shouts triumphantly. "Power-suppression is working! She's neutralized!"
Rage like I've never felt before explodes through me. Not rage at Drace or the Harvesters. Rage at myself for not protecting her better. For letting them get close enough to collar her like an animal.
I shift fully into my Guardian form—something I haven't done in a century. My body grows larger, stronger, more beast than man. Power floods my limbs. The Harvesters holding me down fly backward like they weigh nothing.
"You made a mistake," I growl, my voice no longer human. "A fatal one."
I tear through them like paper. Claws rend armor. Teeth find throats. I don't hold back, don't show mercy. These people tried to collar my Garden-Speaker. They'll learn what happens to those who hurt what's mine.
Within minutes, ten of the fifteen are down. The rest are retreating, dragging their wounded.
Drace stands between me and Elara, his weapon raised. But his hands are shaking. "Don't make me kill you, Kieran."
"You can't." I take a step forward. "You're good, Drace. But you're not good enough to take down a fully transformed Guardian. Not anymore."
"Then I'll die trying." His jaw sets. "My daughter—"
"Will die anyway," I interrupt coldly. "Victor doesn't keep promises. He'll drain your daughter's power the moment he's done with Elara. You're a tool to him. Nothing more."
Doubt flickers across his face. "You don't know that."
"I've known Victor for three hundred years. Trust me. I know."
For a long moment, we stare at each other. Then Drace lowers his weapon slightly.
"If I let you take her," he says quietly, "he kills my daughter immediately."
"If you don't, he kills both our girls eventually." I let my transformation recede slightly, showing him I'm willing to talk. "Help us, Drace. Help us stop him. It's the only way either of them survives."
He looks at Elara, still struggling with the collar. Looks at his remaining team members. Looks at me.
Then he makes his choice.
"Fall back!" he orders his team. "Let them go!"
"Commander?" one protests.
"That's an order!" Drace's voice cracks like a whip. "Fall back to base. Tell Victor they escaped through the tunnels. Tell him anything. Just go!"
The Harvesters exchange confused glances but obey. Within seconds, we're alone—me, Elara, and a commander who just committed treason.
I rush to Elara's side, examining the collar. It's spelled with dark magic, designed to suppress Garden-Speaker abilities. The runes pulse with Victor's signature.
"Get it off," Elara gasps. "Please, I can't breathe—"
"Working on it." I pour Guardian magic into the lock, trying to override the spell. But Victor crafted this personally. It's fighting me.
"Kieran." Drace approaches carefully. "Let me. I helped design these collars. I know the weak point."
I don't want to trust him. Every instinct screams not to. But Elara's lips are turning blue.
"If you hurt her—"
"I won't." He pulls a small tool from his belt and inserts it into the collar's lock. "I swear on my daughter's life."
For five agonizing seconds, nothing happens. Then the collar clicks open and falls away.
Elara sucks in a huge breath, her power flooding back in a rush. The plants around us surge with growth, responding to her relief.
"Thank you," she whispers to Drace.
He nods once, then steps back. "You need to go. Now. My team will report back in ten minutes. After that, Victor will know I betrayed him."
"Come with us," Elara says suddenly. "You and your daughter. We'll protect you both."
"You can barely protect yourself, kid." But his expression softens. "Besides, someone needs to stay behind and feed Victor false information. Buy you time." He looks at me. "There's something you need to know. The people Victor showed you—the ones claiming to be Elara's parents?"
My blood runs cold. "What about them?"
"They're real." Drace's face is grim. "Victor's been keeping them prisoner for eighteen years. Using them as test subjects. They're weak, broken, but alive. And he will kill them at midnight if Elara doesn't surrender."
Elara's face goes white. "They're really my parents?"
"Yes." Drace pulls out a small data chip and tosses it to me. "Security footage. Proof. Everything you need to know about Victor's facility where he's keeping them." He pauses. "It's a trap, obviously. But now you know what kind of trap."
"Why are you helping us?" I ask.
"Because I'm tired of being the villain in my daughter's story." He turns toward the exit. "And because maybe, just maybe, if you take down Victor, she'll get to live in a world where she doesn't have to be afraid."
He leaves without another word.
Elara and I stand in the destroyed greenhouse, surrounded by unconscious Harvesters and too much blood.
"It's definitely a trap," I say finally.
"I know."
"We could run. Leave the city. Hide somewhere Victor will never find us."
"And abandon my parents?" She looks at me with those fierce green eyes. "After they suffered for eighteen years because of me?"
"It's not because of you. It's because of what you are."
"Same difference." She picks up the data chip Drace left, turning it over in her fingers. "We have until midnight. That gives us—" she checks a clock on the wall, miraculously still working, "—seven hours to plan."
"Seven hours to plan a suicide mission."
"Then we'd better get started." She heads toward the tunnel entrance I revealed earlier. "Come on. We need a new safe house and a really good plan."
I follow her into the darkness, my mind already racing through strategies. We're outnumbered, outmatched, and walking straight into Victor's trap.
But as I watch Elara navigate the tunnels, her chin raised and her power humming just beneath her skin, I realize something.
Victor's been hunting Garden-Speakers for three hundred years. He thinks he knows everything about them.
But he's never faced one who was raised to believe she was worthless. One who spent eighteen years being told she was nothing, who was betrayed by everyone she loved, who lost everything and kept going anyway.
He's never faced Elara.
And that might be his fatal mistake.
We emerge from the tunnels into an abandoned subway station. I'm about to suggest which direction to go when Elara suddenly freezes.
"Do you hear that?" she whispers.
I listen. At first, there's nothing. Then I catch it—a faint crying sound. A child's voice, echoing through the tunnels.
"Help me," the voice calls. "Please, someone help me..."
Elara starts toward the sound immediately. I grab her arm.
"Wait. It could be a trap."
"Or it could be a child." She pulls away from me. "I have to check."
"Elara—"
But she's already running toward the voice. I curse and follow, every instinct screaming that this is wrong, wrong, wrong.
We round a corner and find a little girl, maybe seven years old, huddled against the tunnel wall. She's crying, her dress torn, blood on her knees.
"Please," she sobs when she sees us. "Please help me. The bad people took my mommy—"
Elara kneels beside her. "It's okay, sweetie. You're safe now. Where's your mommy?"
The little girl looks up. Her eyes glow green. Her mouth stretches into a smile that's far too wide.
"She's with Victor," the girl says in a voice that's definitely not a child's. "Just like you're about to be."
Dark magic explodes from the girl's body.
And the last thing I see before everything goes black is Elara screaming my name.